Empty Space
by trishtumbles
Summary: "Take a look at me now; I'm just an empty space. There's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face." - Entry for 2014 Castle ficathon
1. Chapter 1

**Empty Space**

* * *

This is first multi-chapter fanfic and entry for the 2014 ficathon.

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Many thanks to honeyandvodka for the beta and gorgeous cover art.

* * *

The day dawns bright, summer sun streaming through the windows of the loft. Kate Beckett groans as she leans over to the bedside table to switch the alarm off on her iPhone. She lays back down, taking a few extra moments to snuggle against her still-sleeping partner, enjoying his warmth whilst beginning to mentally organize the day ahead.

She feels Castle begin to stir beside her. He squints at Beckett as he opens his eyes and props himself up on one elbow and mumbles, "Wha' time is it? Can't be morn'g already?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Castle, but its seven am and you have a busy day planned with a bunch of other authors and a few hundred especially generous and dedicated fans on a charity cruise around Ellis Island."

Now it's Castle's turn to groan. "Is that today?"

Beckett nods.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to go back to sleep with me? I'm sure they won't miss me if I'm a little bit late." He looks up at Beckett and raises an eyebrow. "And I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

"As much as I'd truly love that, I have an equally busy day ahead. I need to attend court for the Walters' trial," Beckett replies. "So how did you wind up getting roped into attending this charity cruise anyway?"

"It's something that Patterson has been organizing on behalf of his charity, the 'National Literacy Trust'. Get a bunch of well-known authors, throw them on a catamaran cruising around Ellis Island with a bunch of people willing to make a rather large donation for the cause. Something to do with literacy and cultural diversity, what with Ellis Island being the gateway for millions of immigrants to the United States. Sounded like a good cause and Paula was keen for me to be a part of it as it's sure to get lots of media attention."

"Okay, so in order for you to go and raise tons of money and stay in both Patterson's and Paula's good books you need to get up. And besides, it looks like it will be a beautiful day to be out on the water. "

Castle doesn't budge. "But Kate, why would I even want to get out of bed when I already have the most beautiful person on earth laying here beside me?"

Kate stifles her laugh at the cheesiness of her fiancé but is unable to stop her eyes from rolling.

"Although, upon contemplation, I do think you'd look incredibly hot in nautical wear," Castle continues.

"Mmm… Now, that's a mental image that might just help me survive the courtroom today… You in your short shorts." Kate muses.

"Haha, no. I'm not wearing them. Could you imagine what some of the fans would do to me if I turned up in shorts? All the groping, all the pinching… And the inappropriate photographs?" Castle shudders. "No, I'll just be wearing jeans with a nice shirt and jacket today. Layers, thank you." At that, Kate is unable to contain her laughter.

"Believe me Castle, I would much rather be out on the water, sipping champagne with you, rather than stuck in a courtroom all day. I mean, I can't even text you unless I have a break… But I guess I'm glad that there will finally be some closure for this case".

"So this is the case about the young guy who murdered his girlfriend?"

"Yes, James Walters. He's just turned eighteen. He thought that his girlfriend Sarah was cheating on him so he confronted her. When she wouldn't confess to having an affair he killed her. The worst part is that Sarah wasn't having an affair. The reason that she'd been a little sneaky was that she was trying to arrange a surprise party for James' eighteenth birthday. It's really pretty tragic. They were both so young and had their whole lives ahead of them."

"And he confessed. So it's open and shut. So how come there's a trial?"

"Because the family has managed to hire some expert witness who claims that because of James' age and the volatile nature of his upbringing, coupled with Sarah not being entirely honest with him at the time of the murder that he shouldn't be held responsible." Beckett shakes her head, "I mean, I get it. If I was James' parent I'd want to do anything I could to keep him out of jail. But the cop in me knows that he needs to take responsibility for his actions. He committed a very serious crime and needs to be held accountable for that. And Sarah's parents deserve justice and closure. From all accounts she was a very sweet and loving girl."

Kate stands up, reaching forward and clasps onto Castle's hand in order to pull him out of bed.

"So come on, let's not put this off any longer."

Castle groans but allows himself to be propelled out of bed. "Okay," he concedes, "I guess I'll just have to go be a social butterfly for a while. It might not be so bad.

Seeing Castle's grimace Kate laughs, "I'm sure it will be terrible to have hordes of women fawning all over you." She turns serious. "But no signing any chests… We've talked about that. And remember who you're coming home to so you don't end up in any trouble"

"You have nothing to worry about Kate. Besides, what could possibly go wrong on a catamaran on the Hudson?"

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All reviews are much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone for the great response I've received to the story so far.

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Many thanks to honeyandvodka for the beta and gorgeous cover art.

* * *

The music is pumping as the limousine with Castle inside pulls up to the pier where the catamaran is berthed. He rolls the window down slightly so he can survey the scene before being thrown amongst it. A red carpet is rolled down the deck and a section of the dock has been cordoned off for VIP access. It looks like the event coordinators have spared no expense to make this event a success.

And they couldn't have paid the weather to put on a better show either. The skies are a beautiful bright azure blue, dotted every so often with wispy white clouds. The sun is shining, and even sitting inside the limousine, Castle can feel its warmth. There is slight breeze which makes the sunlight hitting the water look like twinkling stars. It is definitely a perfect day to be out on the water.

The catamaran looks impressive sitting in the dock. Not one of the standard recreational catamarans; this luxury model is equipped to carry several hundred people in comfort, or so he had been assured by Paula.

Paparazzi and official photographers alike are jostling for a good vantage point between the gathering crowds, awaiting the more prominent arrivals.

Castle remembers to slide his sunglasses down over his eyes before exiting the vehicle, not only to protect his eyes from the bright sunlight, but to lessen the glare of the repeated flash bulbs going off in the crowd.

Surveying the group gathering to one side, waiting to board the vessel, Castle smiles wryly. Unlike his usual crowd of bimbettes and celebutantes there is a more mature mix of guests – both women and men. He's impressed… Maybe they'll even have a larger vocabulary than "I'm your biggest fan?", "Where do you get your ideas?" and "Will you sign my chest?" Maybe, just maybe, this won't even be that painful to get through. And of course, this will make it all the easier to honor his agreement with Kate. Not that it really needed to be said. His days of chest signings are long gone.

* * *

Castle is seated at a table with another author and a group of high-end donors for the meal. The group are a jovial bunch, quite content to make small talk and not ask too many questions from the celebrities sitting amongst them. He enjoys a bit of banter back and forth with the group whilst they dine on a sumptuous meal of fresh seafood; the event coordinators are obviously tying the menu in with the nautical theme. The wait service is good and the drinks are flowing. It is actually quite pleasant and Castle starts to relax. He thinks that he must tell Paula to get the contact details in case they ever decide to host one of these things themselves.

* * *

The speeches roll on and on. Castle soon learns, no matter the age or intelligence of the guests or the emphatic passion with which the presenters talk about their topic of choice, that most of the speeches are still droll. Castle looks around the room. Clearly, by this point of the afternoon, most of the guests are slightly inebriated, making the formalities all the more palatable.

He looks at his watch, noting with relief that the speeches should be winding up shortly. He wonders briefly how Kate is going at the courthouse. It was such a sad and senseless crime… And yet again, another reason to support better gun controls. He resists checking his phone to see if he's received a message from Beckett. It's one thing to realize that he'd much rather be at the precinct working a case (or anywhere else with Beckett for that matter), but another thing entirely to look like one of those guys who can't survive a few hours without their partner in tow.

Castle hears a round of applause and people starting to stir. He realizes that the speeches have concluded whilst he was lost in thought. He stands up to stretch his legs and almost runs straight into James Patterson who has obviously come looking for him.

"Rick Castle; I can't believe I've finally been able to convince you to attend one of these shindigs!" Patterson exclaims.

"Yeah well, it seems like a great cause. And of course, Paula was keen for me to attend, raise my profile a bit."

"I'm actually surprised to see you here flying solo. Reports have it that you have a very nice piece of arm candy now." Patterson teases.

"You've met my partner and fiancé Kate. She's in court today." Castle replies with a smile. "Surely old age hasn't claimed your memory yet?"

"So have you got anything new coming out soon, or are you still playing cop? One book per year does not a writer make, you know!"

Castle is about to retort when Patterson is approached by one of the waiters. He looks at Rick in silent apology and allows himself to be led away from Castle.

Castle takes the opportunity to go outside and catch a breath of fresh air. He climbs up to the top deck, looking out at the spectacular view. He rests, his forearms leaning against the guard rail and lets the wind whip through his hair as he takes a bit of respite from the bustle and noise below.

Suddenly there is a loud bang - like an explosion. He can hear screaming and a large commotion from the dining hall beneath him. Castle feels the catamaran start to list to one side. He tries to grab hold of something but he feels like he's being yanked sideways, his feet coming out from under him. He has a moment of panic where he's not sure if he's going to fall into the water and then everything just fades to black.

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All reviews are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Apologies for the delay with this chapter.

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Once again, many thanks to honeyandvodka for the beta and gorgeous cover art.

* * *

Kate Beckett checks her watch for what feels like the fiftieth time today. Attending court has to be the one thing that she despises most about her job, apart from the actual crime itself. Confined within the four walls of the courtroom, with its artificial lighting, fluctuating air-conditioning and a dubious judicial system where it's sometimes hard to gauge which side are telling the bigger lies; it all just makes her anxious to get back to her real job - in the precinct or out on the streets.

The irony is not lost on Beckett of course. Every time she steps into a courtroom she's reminded that had it not been for a twist of fate, she may have spent the majority of her adult life just like this, pursuing a legal career just like her mom. Instead of defending the sometimes indefensible, coating every syllable in legal jargon, Kate's proud she chose to fight for justice by solving murders and holding those responsible to account instead.

Listening to the "expert" testimony drone on and on it occurs to Beckett that if Castle were here, he would be sure to comment on the demise of society; how everyone has lost their own sense of personal responsibility. The theme of today seems to be that the teenager is not at fault because of his volatile upbringing and questionable mental health. That the parents are not at fault for placing a loaded gun in the house where their teen had access to it. That the victim should bear some responsibility because she had the audacity to plan a surprise for her boyfriend. That with enough money there is always someone willing to "prove" that there is another reason the crime was committed other than the perpetrator's poor choices.

Thinking of Castle brings Kate's thoughts to where he is now. Never one to let a good opportunity go to waste, he's probably having a great time rubbing shoulders and having his ego stroked with the rich and famous. He's probably swilling champagne and swapping outrageous and increasingly inventive stories, enjoying the sunshine, good food and the beautiful watercraft. She checks her watch again, trying to calculate how much longer until court is in recess and she can call him to see how he is going. Not long now.

* * *

Kate exits the court room; phone in hand, ready to make the most of her break. So focused on her task, she nearly runs straight into Esposito and Ryan waiting out the front of the courtroom lifting her gaze from the cell in surprise.

"Hey guys, did you catch a lead on the Trollbridge homicide?"

Ryan rocks back and forth on the balls of feet, looking uncomfortable. He looks to Esposito to take point.

"No. No, we didn't…"

"What do you need then?"

"I don't quite know how to say this…"

"Well just spit it out, Espo. There's only a short recess, and I want to touch base with Castle, too."

"Ummm… It's actually about Castle. There's been an incident with the catamaran that Castle was on this afternoon."

Kate smiles. "Nope, I'm not falling for it... Did Castle put you up to this? Tell him that it was a good try though."

"I don't think you understand. There was an explosion on board. "

"Come on, I understand perfectly. I know Castle's been itching to pay me back ever since his birthday surprise... And we were just joking about what could possibly go wrong this morning. Nope, Castle's staged this whole elaborate charade. What does he want me to do? Go join him on the Hudson? Doesn't he know how much trouble I'll get in if I leave court for a hoax?"

Esposito shakes his head. "Beckett - Kate. It's all over the news. It happened just as they were passing Liberty Island. People are in the hospital. Patterson is injured. There is no way that Castle would organize something that would put people in the hospital; and especially not his friends. I need for you to understand that this is not a hoax."

Kate looks back at Ryan, only to find sympathy reflected back at her and her heart pounds in her chest as she understands; this is real, and she needs to listen.

"So is Castle injured?"

"When the EMS crew reached the catamaran there was no sign of Castle."

The last of the smile falls from Kate's face. "What?"

"There is a witness who places Castle on the top deck when the explosion occurred. They think it's possible that the force of the explosion may have propelled him into the water. "

Kate looks at Ryan; there are more questions than answers, and she needs to know _now_. "So what does that mean? Where the hell is he?"

"We don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? He's not exactly small. He can't just disappear into thin air now can he?"

Esposito winces, and the look in his eyes strikes fear in Kate's heart. She feels her head start to spin and the floor begin to shift beneath her feet. As he begins to speak, it's all she can do to find the nearest trashcan to empty the paltry contents of her stomach.

"The EMS are arranging for divers to scour the river. With no visible signs and the level of pollution in the water they've stated that if Castle did fall into the river and hasn't made it out yet that it will almost certainly be a recovery and not a rescue situation."

* * *

Kate walks into Captain Gate's office, her gait still a bit unsteady. "Sir?"

"Beckett, take a seat." Gates gestures to the chair in front of her.

"If it's okay, I'd rather stand."

Gates shrugs. "Okay. I've just received word from the EMS. They've finished their search of the river and it has come up empty. Richard Castle has officially been listed as missing."

Beckett nods. She had been bracing herself for worse news, and the word _missing_ is almost a relief. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Beckett, even though he was at a personal function and I'd be loath to admit it to him, I think of Castle as one of our own. I've already contacted the Captain at the New Jersey Police Department and he has agreed to working closely with us. I've offered the NJPD any resources that they may require. Feel free to take the day. Or take a few days, if you need."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

Gates stares over her glasses at Beckett. "I have to say, I really didn't expect you to be this calm."

"Castle needs me to remain calm so that I can figure out what's going on and bring him home."

"You seem so sure of that?"

"I am. With every fiber of my being. You know how over the years I've come to trust Castle's crazy theories? Well he's also taught me to trust my gut. I don't know how I know, but I do. He's still alive… And I'll find him… I will. "

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As always, reviews are much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Once again, many thanks to honeyandvodka for the beta and gorgeous cover art. 

* * *

Richard Castle awakens slowly. Fuzzy from sleep, he is content to just lay there, eyes shut, while he comes to full consciousness.

As he begins to wake up further he notices that there is a dull ache in his head and a crick in his neck. Blaming his pain on sleeping at an odd angle, Castle sits up and tries to stretch the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, but is stopped by something attached to his wrist. Things aren't really making sense to him but his brain seems incapable of putting all the pieces together in a coherent order.

He finally opens his eyes. And he can't see a thing. Nothing. It is entirely dark, an all-encompassing blackness. Thinking that something must be wrong with his eyes he blinks, once, twice, to no avail. He lifts his hand up to rub at his eyes and as he does so he realizes that the thing connected to his wrist is still there. He seems to only be able to concentrate on one thing at a time, and at the present moment, even that seems to be too hard.

He reaches over with his other hand to explore his bound wrist. He can feel a smooth plastic band encasing his wrist. There's a nub on the end with something sharp in the middle of it which feels like a smaller piece of plastic. He tries to insert his finger under the band to tug at it but the plastic holds fast. Slower this time, he runs his fingers around the band again and this time finds what his brain seems to think is a chain connected to it. He can feel that there are links joined together which are cold to the touch – so made out of some kind of metal perhaps? The neurons in his brain now seem to be moving a bit faster, but maybe that's just panic beginning to set in. He takes a deep breath. There is slack in the chain and he decides to feel his way around to see what range of movement he has, and at the same time, try to work out where the hell he is…

And how to get out.

The springs on the old bed squeak as he lifts himself off the mattress and onto his feet. His knee groans but mercifully doesn't pop. He questions why it took him so long he realize that the bed was not his? Even in the dark he can now tell that it is higher from the ground than his own. It certainly isn't as large as he's used to, it hasn't got a top of the line chiropractic mattress with 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets like he's accustomed to – and more often than not he wakes up with Kate is lying beside him. That's definitely not the case with this bed.

He takes a step forward and feels that there is a worn rug or piece of carpet covering uneven ground. He is careful to test his footing with each step, arms stretched out in front of him and manages to take another three steps forward before coming into contact with a wall. He can feel the smooth cool stones of a cobblestone wall under his fingers and Castle runs his hands along the wall, walking with more confidence until he stumbles upon what is unmistakably a latrine. He wrinkles up his nose at the smell but not a second later appreciates its location. His bladder is full and he really, really needs to go.

Castle reaches down to unbuckle his jeans and he discovers that they are damp. He runs his fingers across the pockets as everything comes crashing back to him. The catamaran. The Hudson. The explosion. The feeling of falling into nothingness.

Holy Shit. 

* * *

Castle has changed out of his damp jeans and into a pair of sweats that he discovered the second time he searched what he has now come to think of as his cell. He's now sitting on the bed, wrapped in a blanket to stave off the cold, trying to figure out just how the hell he ended up here.

He doesn't know how long it's been since the accident but it's pretty clear to him that it was deliberate and that he is now being held captive. He has so many questions running through his brain and absolutely no answers: Was he abducted because he is "Richard Castle" or because of his connection to the NYPD and Beckett? Do people know he's been abducted? Has someone asked for a ransom? Do people think he is dead? How are his family coping? How is Beckett coping? Have the media gone ballistic?

Castle wracks his brain, mentally filing through all the possibilities. He and the team have put so many people in jail. He is pretty confident that this is not the work of either of Castle and Beckett's biggest enemies 3XK or Senator Bracken.

For starters, Jerry Tyson has been doing a good job of convincing everyone except Castle that he is, in fact, dead. And Castle highly doubts that if Tyson had the chance again that he'd keep him alive. It also doesn't seem to be his style. Drugging, putting him in an underground cell, using cable ties and chain to restrain him rather than his 3XK signature rope – it's not dramatic enough, and doesn't have the same feel of meticulous planning and execution which leads Castle to think that whoever it is it is someone without the same finesse as Tyson.

He also highly doubts that it is Bracken. Regardless of his political aspirations, he operates on an (albeit twisted) moral code and there's just no apparent reason for him to do something like this – especially considering Beckett and Bracken's truce.

Castle thinks back to the time when he and Beckett were cuffed together. Like that, maybe this is the handiwork of some random criminal. Hopefully, like last time, that will mean someone will be able to follow the trail of clues which will lead them to Castle. He wishes he were back there right now. He'd rather stare down a tiger a hundred times over with Beckett by his side than face the darkness alone.

He sends out a silent plea - Please come find me. 

* * *

Castle hears a scraping against the door. He sees a flicker of light before everything goes dark again. He rushes to the door as fast as he can and calls out but no one answers. He finds that a metal plate has been slid through a hatch in the bottom of the door.

Debating on whether to eat the food or not, Castle's stomach rumbles, deciding for him. He's taken just a few bites, hasn't even finished the sandwich when he realizes too late that it is a very bad idea. He's suddenly spinning and then he descends into a different kind of blackness.

* * *

So how am I going? Love it? Hate it? Reviews are always appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the delay and thank you for sticking with me. The next update wont take nearly as long - I promise!

All mistakes are mine.

Thank you to Kylie for the beta and honeyandvodka for the cover art.

* * *

Seventy two hours. Three days. Four thousand, three hundred, and twenty minutes have passed since Castle disappeared, and every tick of the clock is a reverberating reminder to Kate that time still has to move on; the world still has to turn, even when your heart has stopped beating.

Since her conversation with Esposito at the courthouse, it seems that her colleagues have been avoiding her gaze, unwilling to look at her directly. She watches their sorrowful eyes divert away from hers as she tries to go about her work. She understands, of course. No one wants to bring voice to the fact that the longer time stretches on without any information the more likely it is that Castle has met with foul play.

Sometimes no news is not good news; sometimes it's just no freaking news.

* * *

When she'd first heard about Castle, Kate had felt that remaining at work was the best possible way to help figure out what was going on and how to get him back. While she wasn't permitted to be part of the ongoing investigation on the Hudson, she'd figured that if she stayed at work she'd at least have access to information that she wouldn't be privy to as a civilian. Being at the precinct had also allowed her to keep Martha and Alexis in the loop, as well as having the support of her team around her. More than that, work had provided her with a purpose and distraction so that she was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other instead of losing her shit and drowning in a sea of misery and despair.

For the first day, it had worked.

Kate had been able to keep her temper in check and had channelled all her energy into closing out her team's murder investigation and spending every other spare moment finding Castle. Unfortunately, that had shifted dramatically sideways on the second day when the vultures known as paparazzi decided that they had the right to descend upon her at a crime scene.

The murder victim bore a slight resemblance to Castle and a very persistent reporter took that as an opening to interrupt Kate's investigation. With a series of very pointed and personal questions on Castle's disappearance and her relationship with the writer, he'd made his unwanted presence known. Even with Ryan and Esposito's best efforts to run interference for her, the reporter was relentless, had kept pushing and pushing.

Until he'd pushed too far…

Kate, running on practically no sleep and far too much caffeine, had snapped and tried to slug him. What was worse was that a photographer had captured it all on film. It had taken the threat of Obstruction of Justice charges being brought against the reporter for the photos to miraculously disappear, but Captain Gates had had no choice but to give Beckett the ultimatum of either taking a few personal days to get herself together or be assigned to desk duty.

* * *

Since then, Beckett has been chained to her desk, poring over all of the incident reports, investigating any and all leads as to what had caused the explosion on the catamaran. The arson squad were quickly able to determine the use of an incendiary device and they'd been running down possible leads to find out if there was a specific manufacturer. An exhaustive search of all the other leisure craft operating on the Hudson had also been undertaken which had failed to turn up any additional leads. Beckett had also been trying to make discrete enquiries without stepping on the official investigator's toes, whether she was successful remained a mystery, one that she couldn't focus on.

Early in the day, Kate thought she'd come across a breakthrough. Initially, Castle's phone had diverted straight to voicemail, which led investigators to believe that the phone had most likely gone into the water. However, Kate had received a call from an acquaintance of Castle's that they had called him yesterday - not having read the news - and his phone had rung before shifting to voicemail. Unfortunately, now nearly a full day later, the phone goes straight to voicemail and the NYPD tech guys haven't been able to get any data from the phone's GPS.

Kate ran a hand across her ponytailed hair in frustration. Somewhat mercifully, today she's in slightly better shape than the day before, with Gates having ordered her out of the precinct the night before at a respectable hour and Martha had practically force fed food into her, stating the obvious, that her son would not like to see her run herself into the ground. So she'd gone through the motions of bite, swallow, bite, swallow until the concern on Martha's face had lessened. She'd even taken a shower and had managed a fitful sleep on the couch - the bed she shares with Castle felt too lonely without him there with her - before she'd headed back into the precinct at the crack of dawn.

The start to her day had begun with her compiling a list of all the people who may have had a vendetta against either Castle or herself. The list was quite extensive. Kate had quickly discounted the obvious ones like 3XK or Senator Bracken. Assuming that Castle had been kidnapped, holding him without contact really was not either of their styles. And even if Castle had been murdered, she would've expected to hear something. Some kind of brag, taunt or mysterious clue leading her to his body. She shuddered at that thought. _Focus Beckett._ Until proof to the contrary, she had to hold on to the belief that Castle was alive. She just wished she knew where the hell he was.

Kate had even gone so far as to use her contacts within the Attorney General's office and the FBI to try and get in touch with Jackson Hunt. She was told point blank from the Attorney General's Office that they had no idea who he was or how to get in touch with him. The FBI were a little less direct in their conversation and made a lot of commentary about confidentiality, identity protection and special clearances being required for the information she was requesting, all without confirming or denying their ability to action her request. But later in the day she'd received an email from an unknown sender stating, _I'm as baffled as you are, and am keeping my eyes open, _so she had to assume that he'd received the message and was as lost as she was.

As the day wore on, more and more reports of vague, possible sightings of Castle kept being called into the tip line, but because of Castle's "celebrity" status and the dramatic events surrounding his disappearance it seemed like all the crazies had decided to come out of the woodwork. It was a very labour intensive task trying to sift through all of the information to find anything of merit, and with each passing minute it seemed like the haystack was growing bigger and bigger.

Just as Kate's despair rose up to an unacceptable level, the message alert on her phone sounded. Opening her messages, a text from an anonymous sender appeared.

_You need to make the Walter's case disappear, just like I made your partner disappear._

Yes! She finally had a lead to work with, and, leaning back in her desk chair, her eyes closed in relief.

I will find you Castle, just keep holding on.

* * *

As always, reviews are much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Many thanks to Kylie for the beta and to honeyandvodka for the gorgeous cover art.

* * *

"Ugh."

Castle opens his eyes and wakes to total and utter darkness. Again. Not the kind of darkness that comes with the fall of the sun, but the all-encompassing darkness that comes with the complete and total absence of light. His life has narrowed into a vacuum, no start, no finish. He's fallen to the bottom of an abyss, and even if he could see, there's no escape in sight.

Where the hell is he?

He'd been clinging to hope that this had all just been a very bad dream, but as the black stretches on he can no longer hold onto that belief. This is real. Frighteningly so.

Leaning back against the cold wall, Castle rubs his head, the effects of whatever it was they'd put in his food clearly still lingering within his system. A million thoughts rush at him in a tangled mess, and he struggles to make sense of them through the jumbled haze of his sleepy and drugged brain.

Who has him captive? Why are they drugging him? Why are they keeping him locked here in the dark? Is he being watched? Is his family safe? Is Beckett safe? And perhaps the hardest question to ask of all…

Is anybody trying to find him?

* * *

The darkness is pervasive and blackness is all there is. Left or right the nothing extends, untouchable, and he feels like he's suffocating, like the walls in this unknown chamber are closing in on him. Fear rises up in his chest. The sensation forces him to try and employ every kind of trick in the book to stop the thoughts from crashing down and overwhelming him.

He'd always been proud of his imagination, the darkness of his mind, being known as the Master of the Macabre. But sitting here in the black, completely powerless, shackled to God only knows what with slim prospect of escape; his mind now seems to be an exquisite form of torture rather than a delightful asset.

Having been witness to people at their most raw and vulnerable, pushed to their absolute limits, Castle's seen the most twisted, perverse and evil things that no-one should see. He's seen people in their final moments on this mortal coil, and in the first moments after they have slipped from this earth. He has studied the human psyche, the pathology behind criminal behavior and both researched and written tales containing all sorts of delightfully devious twists and turns.

Castle is well accustomed to dealing with information. He has always been connected to technology and has amassed an impressive collection of gadgetry. He also respects the old school process of gathering information. Reading books, observing, writing notes, knocking on doors. He can process and disseminate the information as required. What he can't seem to handle is…. Nothingness. He struggles to comprehend the situation he finds himself in.

What kind of person forces another person into living within a confined cell, devoid of all stimuli? What kind of depraved individual must that person be?

* * *

He has no idea how long he's been held captive. Apart from not knowing how long the drugs had knocked him out for, how long he had been here unconscious, he continues to live with the obvious effects of the drugs in his system. His brain remains fuzzy, his stomach rebelling in wave after wave as the nausea smashes into him. He has no hunger whatsoever and without being able to see outside or look at a clock, he has no idea if it is morning, noon or night.

He is really thirsty though. He'd earlier discovered another plate of food and a bottle of water on a tray next to him, but he's hesitant to eat or drink what they'd provided in case they've also been drugged. He needs to remain as alert as possible if he wants to figure out how to get out of here and back to his life, his family and Beckett.

Today, he's started to see and hear things in the dark. He's not sure if they're real or the effects of dehydration on his body, the residual drugs in his system or just a by-product of his overactive imagination. With each one there's an irrational sense of dread that crawls along his spine, and when his writers' imagination joins in on the disastrous party, conjuring up pictures in the dark, different and worsening scenarios that compete for attention, the situation becomes more and more horrific. All of his senses are on high alert; straining for any change in his surroundings, any small clue that might help him get out of this place. His body sits tensed, muscles tightly coiled, ready to react and protect himself if necessary at a moment's notice.

A feeling comes over him that he's never felt before and it's paralyzing. He can feel the moment that adrenalin starts to rush throughout his body. His thoughts begin to speed up and mash together and he finds it increasingly difficult to focus on any one image in particular. His body screams at him to run, to get away, but he remains constrained within the confines of his restraints. His hands and feet begin to tingle and beads of sweat trickle down his neck. His breathing quickens and his heartbeat begins to race.

He's never really experienced a panic attack before. Not like Beckett with her PTSD. But sitting here, alone with the dark thoughts that tumble around inside his head, he now understands the sheer terror of panic.

* * *

Sleep is elusive for Castle. For someone so used to the hustle and bustle, the noise, the smells and almost constant stimulation of everyday life in New York City, he struggles to find relief when he closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

He can't handle the sensations anymore, the blackness, the exhaustion, the need to eat. His stomach tearing at itself becomes too much and he gives in, eating the food that lies next to him. His final thoughts are a message to Beckett before the drugs kick in. "I'm holding on. Please find me."

Then he dreams, dreams of her... And he finds peace, if only for a moment. It's the only time in the last few days when he's seen any light; everything is in glorious Technicolor when he's dreaming about her.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is a bit dark and angsty however things will start to look up for both Castle and Beckett from here on in, trust me! All comments are appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Many thanks to honeyandvodka for the beta and for the gorgeous cover art.

* * *

Beckett set to the task of re- opening the Walters investigation. The lead, no matter how small, had re-energized her to keep going in the pursuit of her partner. She maintained a single focus and steely resolve, not unlike that of her mother's case; however this time she was determined not to fall down the rabbit hole again. Finding Castle was just too important.

Thinking that the best thing to do would be to go back to the original case file, she opens it, determined to look at it with fresh eyes. She vaguely remembers reading the file, however it had been a while ago and more about making sure all the reports contained consistent information and that all the I's had been dotted and T's had been crossed rather than delving deeper into the content.

And as a consequence of it being an open and shut case, the file itself was woefully thin. James came from well-to-do family with deeply entrenched New York roots. His parents had divorced when James was ten which is when he had started to display all sorts of behavioral problems including dabbling in drug and alcohol use. He had been expelled from his elite prep school at the age of fourteen and was arrested for possession and petty theft a year later which saw him admitted to rehab. He'd met Sarah when he was sixteen at a retreat where she was volunteering. They'd hit it off immediately but hadn't started dating until later that year. Since then, James appeared to have been on the straight and narrow.

In contrast to James, Sarah came from a small town with a modest family. A year older than James, she'd grown up a single child in a loving two parent family. Her parents had tried for several years to have a child before adopting Sarah and were devoted to her. She had excelled at school and had participated in many extracurricular and community activities.

It's clear to Beckett that she'll have to find more information from somewhere. Had she not been so distracted by Castle's disappearance, Kate would have known before now that the day after she was in court the Attorney for the Defense had been able to secure a seven day continuance for the trial due to the defendant suffering an apparent psychotic break. James Walters was now under suicide watch and receiving treatment from a top mental health facility.

She knew what a difficult task she had ahead of her, especially considering the last thing she wanted was to speak to the family and tip her hand that she had started to re-investigate the case, nor did she want to cause a mistrial during the ongoing court proceedings.

She'd just have to think outside the box.

* * *

"You know if dad were here with you, he'd suggest an alien abduction... But that doesn't really fit, does it?"

Kate chuckles softly, "Not if his disappearance is connected in any way to the Walters case. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to find a way to make his theory fit though."

It had been another frustrating day of little to no progress. Kate had left the Precinct and gone back to the loft, not wanting to stay in her cold and seldom-used apartment alone. She felt the need to stay connected to the two women who had become almost as important to her as her partner.

Alexis and Kate were in the kitchen; Kate preparing coffee whilst Alexis leafed through the case file that Beckett had compiled on Castle's disappearance. Alexis had seen the documents strewn across the bench and suggested that she and Beckett could build theory like she'd normally do with her father. They'd started out seriously, tossing various theories back and forth which then turned into seeing who could outdo the other in coming up with the more ridiculous theory. After the seriousness and tension of the last few days both of them were enjoying the brief moment of levity.

"What about an FBI conspiracy? Maybe dad overheard something at the party that he shouldn't have, and the text about the case is just a smokescreen to take you off the scent?"

"I touched base with my contacts a few days ago and really doubt any of the major agencies are involved… But sticking with the theory of the case just being a smokescreen, maybe whoever took your dad is a massive Richard Castle fan who is angry that he's only written one book a year for the last few years… Actually, are we sure we've checked Gina's alibi?"

Alexis points to the photo of James and Sarah, "Maybe these two have the same genetic defect. During the course of researching his next book, Dad finds out that they're actually twins who were separated at birth. Someone finds out the same information and kills Sarah to cover up the fact they're each dating their twin. Then they have to kidnap dad so he can't reveal the truth?"

Beckett shakes her head with a smile, "You really are your dad's progeny, aren't you? But as interesting as that all sounds, they're not even the same age nor share the same birthday."

Alexis smirks back at Beckett, "Well, maybe they're siblings then?"

The girls are interrupted before their conversation can degrade into further silliness by the sound of a key turning in the front door. Both sets of eyes glance towards source of noise, and the door opens, Martha rushing in, a frenetic whirlwind of color.

Martha greets both ladies with a generous hug in greeting, before turning toward Kate. "Well Katherine, if you're staying in for the evening I might head back out. I've been neglecting my students of late and really would like to get to a rehearsal before their production begins."

Kate nods toward Martha.

"You know, Gram, I am old enough to not need a babysitter," Alexis rolls her eyes in a perfect imitation of Beckett.

"Of course you are. Heaven knows you do a better job of looking after yourself than your father and I combined. I just felt with your father being... away I didn't want to leave you alone. And of course if you need me I am a mere phone call away."

She is out the door again before either Kate or Alexis can even utter a reply.

Kate looks across at Alexis. "So it's just you and me. How about I dial a pizza and you choose a DVD for the both of us to watch?" Kate smiles. "But please don't make it a mystery. I think I've had all the conspiracy theories I can handle for one night."

* * *

"So Lanie, I was wondering if you could re-examine Sarah's body? Looking at the case file it looks pretty sparse given the quick resolve. I'm hoping maybe something was missed the first time around," Beckett asked, upon entering the morgue.

The Medical Examiner looked up at her friend with equal parts empathy and frustration.

"Kate, I'm not sure what that would achieve. It's been almost a week and there's been no trace of Castle; no clues, other than a cryptic text message and a few vague sightings. Surely if Castle were out there somewhere he'd have moved heaven and earth to contact you?"

"So if it was Javi and not Castle, is that what you'd do? Just drop it after a few days and not exhaust every possible lead? You know I can't do that Lanie. What if he's incapacitated? What if he's being held against his will and can't escape?"

"If you're resorting to building ridiculous theories don't you think maybe it's time to stop? Let yourself come to terms with the fact that Castle is gone."

"No. He's alive. He's out there somewhere. I don't know how I know it but I do." Kate holds up the photo of James and Sarah and says, "There has to be something I'm missing."

Lanie gestures to Kate to hand over the photo. "You know Kate, looking at these two it could almost... Nah, it can't be."

"What Lanie?"

"Well they have a very similar facial structure, skin tone and natural hair coloring, although Sarah's has been highlighted. There are few subtle differences but they share more than just a slight resemblance… But that's completely ridiculous."

Kate's eyes widened, words from her wild theory building with Alexis last night ringing in her ears.

"Actually Lanie; that might not be as ridiculous as it sounds."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the slightly lighter turn I've taken. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you all for continuing to read, support and encourage my little story.

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Thanks again to honeyandvodka for the speedy beta and gorgeous artwork.

* * *

The silky slide of his hand as it slides up the expanse of her thigh

The salty sweet taste of sweat, rolling down her neck and disappearing into the valley between her breasts.

The slightly heightened pitch of her sex-laden voice as she moans his name.

The tumble of silky brown curls as she throws her head back in pleasure-

Castle awakens with a start, struggling against his bound wrist and groans in frustration, the sound shocking in the quiet.

He needs to get back to her. To be able to see her, to feel her in flesh and blood and not be reliant on the images in his head. He misses her more and more with every single moment that passes by. He will get back to his life. To Beckett. Whatever it takes. He'll find a way.

* * *

It feels different. It feels like something is off. Things do not seem as meticulously executed as they have normally been… if you can call anything about this situation normal. For the first time since he's been held captive, Castle can hear muffled voices from outside his cell... but hasn't been able to distinguish actual words. He also feels more alert, thinks that maybe his captors have given him a lower dose of whatever drug they've been putting into his food. Either that or he's began to build up a tolerance to it. On the one hand, this scares him. What has been a reliable escape to oblivion when living inside his head has gotten too much for him may now no longer be an effective option. On the other hand, it gives him a little comfort, that maybe whoever is holding him captive is getting complacent or sloppy. It also gives him hope, and the improvement in his mental clarity makes him feel better equipped to deal with whatever is to come.

And he sees things differently now. He'd let the thoughts in his head overcome him, let the darkness scare him into inaction. But darkness can also be his ally. Darkness can hide a multitude of sins and he can use this to his advantage. Instead of being on the defensive and just reacting to the situation he has now decided his best way forward is to go on the offensive, spurring himself into action. He just needs to bide his time until either an opportunity presents itself or he can create an opportunity of his own.

* * *

Castle has few regrets. Except for a few periods of unhappiness during his youth and a few more recent periods of depression caused by writer's block, he's always seen himself as a pretty positive person, content with his lot in life. Sure, he's had his ups and downs, but they've all contributed to the person he is today. A loving son. A proud father. An awarded novelist. And engaged to the love of his life. Today, however, he wishes he were more of an outdoors kind of guy. One of those guys who can make a fire without matches and survive off the land for months at a time with nothing more than a pocket knife. It's not like he doesn't know he has skills. On the contrary. He's great with words; obviously he knows how to string a sentence or two together and he's also pretty good at talking himself out of trouble… well, most of the time. His being a nerd with a love of all kinds of gadgetry also makes him pretty good with technology. But those skills are useless right now. And he's sure if he was more resourceful he might have figured out a way to get himself out of this mess already.

He promises himself that if he manages to get out of wherever the hell he is in one piece he's going to grab Ryan and Esposito for a weekend of survival skills, fishing, a few beers and a few more beers.

That is, of course, after he manages to unglue himself from Beckett's side.

He decides to only eat a portion of his food, enough to sustain him but hopefully not enough for him to lose his presence of mind so he can remain awake and alert.

As he waits to see if anyone will enter his prison, he runs his finger along the metal rim of his plate. To the touch, it feels like one of those metal plates used for camping. Durable enough for the rough and tumble of outdoors but not completely impenetrable. Its then that a spark of an idea begins to form. Castle starts to drag the metal across the floor until he finds a divot where the edge finds purchase. He then uses the leverage to bend the metal backwards, being patient not to go too fast and risk the plate flying across the room and making a sound loud enough to alert his captors to what he is up to. He then reverses the plate and bends it back the other way. He repeats the process again and again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each time he bends the edge of the plate it becomes a little more pliable.

Eventually the metal snaps with a loud crack. He wait a few moments, taking the time to congratulate himself on his success. He then starts to scrape the raw edge of metal against the stone wall. He is again careful not to make too much noise but works patiently and diligently on making the edge as sharp as he can. It is a painstaking process. His hand starts to sweat and cramp up. He stops for a moment and finds that he's been holding onto the metal shard as if his life depends on it, and he suddenly realizes, maybe it does. After taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his palm and release the tension from his wrist he resumes his task.

* * *

Castle presses the metal shard against the tip of his finger and hisses in pain as it pierces his skin. Hoping his makeshift blade is sharp enough, he positions the blade between his skin and the cable tie, running the sharp edge along the plastic. He knows he needs to be careful in keeping the blunt edge of the metal against his skin - if he cuts an artery in his wrist it could be a long time before someone discovers him or gets him medical treatment. He probably wouldn't bleed out from such an injury but he could definitely cause ongoing nerve damage in his hand if he isn't careful.

He repeats the process of running the blade along the plastic again and again. It feels like it has been hours and his body aches from hunching over and exerting his energy after what must have been days of inactivity but he keeps whittling away. He winces in pain every so often when the blade slips and slices his skin rather than the plastic but mercifully he has managed to avoid anything more serious than a few superficial abrasions. It's slow going but Castle can feel a dent in the plastic that wasn't previously there so his idea is working. He just needs to remain patient and keep on going.

Eventually the plastic gives way and the chain that was attached to it clatters to floor. Castle curses at the sound of the noise and hopes that no one is within earshot. He rubs his wrist, working the circulation back into it, relieved to finally be rid of his restraint. He may not be free yet, but having full use of both hands considerably increases the odds in his favor.

Now to work out how to escape.

* * *

As always, your feedback is much appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the delay and thank you for sticking with me. My little story got a bit pushed to the side when stressed out Trish took over. Only a few more chapters to go now.

All mistakes are mine.

Thank you to honeyandvodka for the cover art and speedy beta.

* * *

Lanie's words hang in Kate's ear. Could a ridiculous theory really be the key to this case? How ironic would that be? Castle will be so proud. When this whole ordeal is over and she gets him back and is finally able to let go of his body and just talk, of course.

But first, she has to prove the theory.

* * *

Beckett needs to look further into both of the families to see if there is any connection. She'll get the boys to do some digging for her, see if anything jumps out at them. With Sarah being adopted it opens up a whole new array of theories but also presents new roadblocks. Lack of available information and the bureaucracy involved mean delays in getting access to adoption records. Hopefully Ryan can work some magic, or utilize his blue eyes and Irish charm to the get the information for her.

She takes a minute to pause, catch her breath and stop her mind going a hundred and fifty miles per hour. If the text message she received is linked to the case, rather than someone just toying with her, then whoever wants to make the case disappear is going to an awful lot of effort in kidnapping Castle. Especially for something so seemingly open and shut. Maybe she needs to flip everything she thinks she knows on its head. Surely there has to be more to it than one entitled young man with a wealthy family wanting him to get away with murder?

James may just be the key she needs to solve all of this.

She just needs to figure out a way that she can talk to him away from his family and legal entourage.

* * *

"I've looked over the body with a fine tooth comb and from the looks of it the post mortem examination was correct with GSW as the cause of death. There are a few red flags, however, such as the plausibility of the accused being the one who pulled the trigger. It really looks like the investigation team didn't do their homework properly after receiving a confession." Lanie says.

"What do you mean?" Kate enquires.

"To my eye, the bullet trajectory looks off, if the murder took place exactly as it is written in the police report."

"So does that mean that the accused didn't commit the crime?" Kate asks. Inside, she's already grinning. She has a lead.

"Settle down Kate. I'm not prepared to go that far. Yet. But there are a few questions I have that need to be cleared up. I would expect that for someone who was a fair bit taller than the victim, and if both people were standing as stated in the report, for the bullet path to be more diagonal. However, it's almost horizontal, making me think that the shooter was either not fully standing or a fair bit shorter than the accused. There are also GSR swabs of the accused that were taken at the scene that the investigators didn't bother to get tested. "

"Still, it's hardly the open and shut case that we thought it was. Can we get a rush put on the GSR swabs?"

* * *

It took a fair bit of convincing and more than a few mistruths on her behalf, but Beckett finally managed to convince the one of the nurses at the mental intuition to let her see James without his lawyer or family members being present.

Her conversation with Lanie had yet again brought up more questions than answers. Instead of assuming that James was guilty, what if he actually wasn't? Maybe James was taking the fall for someone else? She knows that James is involved, but what if he's just another victim?

She knows that just being here, having a conversation with James, could jeopardise the whole trial. But she also knows that without this conversation she can't move forward and that she will kick herself if she missed a clue that could return Castle to her.

At first glance, she is taken aback at the sight of the young man. There is a marked difference between the man she had first met and the one standing before her. It's very clear that stress had taken a huge toll on both his physical and mental state. His skin looks pale and sallow, dark circles stain the skin around his eyes. Although James was not large in stature, it is easy to see that he had lost a significant amount of weight. And his whole demeanour had changed, his shoulders slump, almost hunched over in posture. It's such a contrast from the confident young man in the interview room with the automatic answers. This man is quiet, reserved, broken. He doesn't look like someone who is psychotic, or wracked with guilt. He looks like someone experiencing deep grief. It was a place Beckett herself was familiar with and it affirmed her belief that James might be innocent even more.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me James," Beckett starts tentatively.

"It didn't seem I had much of a choice," James states, unable to look Beckett in the eye.

Beckett decides to lay all her cards on the table.

"I know it must be hard for you having to relive this over and over again. The thing is, I'm not convinced you killed Sarah. I know what's been said in court but I also know what I see, and I don't see you as a killer."

"But I am, detective."

"You don't know this about me, but my mom was killed when I was 19. It's the reason I became a cop. For years I didn't know the reason that my mom was murdered and it tore me up inside. I blamed myself that I wasn't there, that I couldn't stop it from happening. A few years ago I was able to discover who her killer was and the reason why she was killed. It was a relief. Don't get me wrong, I'll always miss her, but knowing the answers, finding a bit of justice, made it easier for me to grieve and go on living my life."

James looks up at Beckett but doesn't offer any response so she continues.

"It looks to me like you are deeply grieving for Sarah. That's not typically how someone guilty of murdering her would react. There are also other anomalies in the case and we're in the process of testing forensic evidence which should prove your guilt one way or another."

James looks down at the ground. "So what if what you say is correct? Who cares? This is all for the best. My life is over. It's my fault. My greed has brought me to this place." He looks back up at Beckett. "I deserve this. I deserve this and so much more."

"You might think so right now, but trust me, it's hard carrying such a heavy burden. Especially if it's not your burden to bear."

* * *

Beckett returns to the Precinct to find the boys eagerly awaiting her return.

"Please tell me you've got some good news?" Kate asks.

"Well, I guess that depends on whether you want the accused to be guilty or not." Ryan stated. "All of the birth records were sealed but following a hunch I managed to chase down an old servant of the Walters family who was happy to provide me with some information. James' mom was sent on a vacation to an upstate relative a few months before Sarah's birth. There were rumours that James' mom had given birth to a child out of wedlock who was then adopted out but nothing could be confirmed. When she arrived back at the family estate she married James' father and shortly after was pregnant with James. "

Kate looked stunned. Finally, things were fitting together, albeit in a horrifying kind of way.

Esposito continued, "Lanie called and advised that the preliminary results from the swabs came back. They're not conclusive but look like James had very little GSR on him. She believes it is looking more and more likely that he didn't kill Sarah."

"Thanks guys," Beckett replied.

"Oh wait, there's more," Ryan exclaimed. "So based on those findings we did a bit of research into the Walters' financials and property holdings. It appears that three days before Castle disappeared there was an undisclosed payment withdrawn from their family trust in the amount of twenty thousand dollars."

"And we also found out that the family own a country home in the Hudson Valley, two hours' drive from New York City. It would also be accessible via boat as well," Esposito chimed in.

"I guess that means I'm up for a trip to the Hudson Valley."

* * *

A/N: So love it? Hate it? Want to berate me for such a long delay? As always, feedback is much appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Thanks again to honeyandvodka for the speedy beta and gorgeous artwork.

* * *

Like any good mystery, the old lock on the door to his prison is a puzzle Castle desperately wants to solve. And whilst he has studied the art of lock picking as research for one of his Derrick Storm novels - and even considers himself a pretty decent locksmith, with the proper tools - he knows that his makeshift blade just isn't going to be up to the task.

The lock is one of those that requires a large skeleton key. Without the key he needs to manipulate the tumblers in just the right way to make the lock yield. In the hope that he's wrong about the lock, Castle tries inserting the blade and wiggling it around, hoping to get lucky. He groans in frustration when the blade doesn't even make contact with the inner mechanism.

Finally free to investigate his prison with full range of movement, Castle sweeps the cell as best he can in the dark to see if there is anything else that he can use to unlock the door. He gets down on his hands and knees, searching every inch of the cell by feel. His search is fruitless though. Whoever his captors are, they sure were prepared because all he's managed to come across is dirt and cobwebs. As he runs his hands over the rough surface of the floor he grimaces at the thought of how dirty and scraped up he'll be when he finally manages to get himself out of this godforsaken hellhole.

His priorities are very basic at the moment. Get out of here. Get back to Kate. Have a shower, once he's able to let go of Kate of course… Or maybe those two activities could be combined? The thought of his reunion involving a steaming hot shower and a naked Kate, rivulets of water streaming down the curves of her gorgeous body almost makes him forget for a moment where he is and the dire situation that he is currently in.

He just needs to get back to her. He'll do whatever it takes. He just needs to come up with another plan.

* * *

Whilst biding his time waiting for someone to enter the cell, Castle goes over the new plan on how to escape in his head. The only course of action is to jump whomever enters the cell, hoping that the element of surprise works in his favor. He knows he's taking a big a risk, that there are too many unknown variables but given his current situation he truly believes that it is his best shot. That it may be his only shot. And he's at least got to give it a try.

After what feels like an eternity, Castle hears the door creak open. He waits, crouching down by the back of the door when he sees an arc of light swing across the room. He's poised, ready to spring into action whenever he sees his chance. He's tucked the makeshift blade as securely as he can into the waistband of his sweats, hopeful that he won't have to resort to using it but accessible just in case. He watches intently as the figure of his jailer comes into view. Castle holds his breath as they make their way towards Castle's bed. He hopes that he has made his pile of bedclothes look convincingly enough like his sleeping form to fool him and have him let down his guard.

He sees the figure leaning down toward the bed and doesn't think twice. Trying to remain as quiet as he can and hoping not to alert his captor until the last possible moment, he gets up from behind the door. He gets as close to him as he can and then lets fly with a fist to the head. He manages to make contact but not as solidly as he would have liked. The figure turns, letting out a cry of either shock or pain, Castle is not quite sure which, and he doesn't wait to find out. This time his right hook connects squarely with his shoulder, sending the torch he is carrying clattering to the ground, its beam pointing away from both men and casting only a faint glow. The man comes at him, but Castle is now clearly at an advantage, being aware of his surroundings and used to making his way around the space without the benefit of light. His attacker swings and Castle is able to manoeuvre himself so that he is only slightly glanced. He notices that the man hasn't called out for help so he hopes that means that it is just him whom he needs to contend with. He comes at Castle again, this time lunging towards him and holding onto him. They both fall to the ground with an oomph. They grapple with each other, both desperately trying to assert power over the other. Castle feels his foot connect with the edge of the latrine and he rolls himself toward it. When his attacker then surges towards him again, Castle rolls himself in the opposite direction, using the other man's propulsion to catapult him into the latrine with a loud crash.

Castle stands up, heaving, desperately trying to get air into his lungs. Apart from one quiet moan, his assailant hasn't moved since the crash and Castle hopes that he's out cold at least long enough for him to find his way out. He doesn't waste any more time and makes a dash for the door. He turns down a corridor until he finds a set of stairs leading up. Figuring he was probably being held captive in a cellar or basement of some sort he takes the stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs is a landing leading into a formal living space with more stairs leading upward toward what looks like a series of bedrooms. From what he can see, the house is tastefully decorated, the lighting muted and everything appearing to be in good order. Why is he here? Who owns the house? Confusion plays in his mind, his desire to find answers to his questions at war with his desire to escape – his eagerness to put as much distance between him and his prison winning out. He sees a door which looks like it leads outside and he heads over to it. A simple bolt keeps this door in place and he makes short work of unlocking it.

He takes in his first breath of fresh air in what must have been at least a week – maybe more? But finally, he's free.

* * *

The outside light is quite dazzling at first, after being in the dark for so long. It takes Castle a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He is also quite overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of sights and sounds on his stimulation-deprived brain. In a way, he's thankful that it appears to be late in the day, the sun just starting to slip over the horizon and nowhere near as bright or hot as the midday sun. Of course the onset of night is both blessing and curse. Blessing, as it can be easier to hide in the dark, but curse, as once night falls it will get cold. He feels a twinge of pain in his side and looks down to find a gash where his makeshift knife must've come into contact with him during their fight. He realizes he won't be able to get far with no shoes, looking disheveled, unwashed, bruised and beaten. Also not having any ID, money or cell phone and not being sure who he can trust, Castle knows he'll need to stay well under the radar.

So how to get home? First things first. He needs to figure out where the hell he is. Second, he needs to figure out how he can contact Beckett. Third, he needs to find some clothes and a place to tidy himself up.

Not knowing how injured his captor is, he figures it's only a matter of time before someone comes looking for him.

He just hopes that Beckett is as well.

* * *

This is my first attempt at writing action, so how did I go? Love it? Hate it? As always, your feedback is much appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

All mistakes are mine but the characters are not.

Thanks again to honeyandvodka for the speedy beta and gorgeous artwork.

* * *

Being a cop sometimes has its advantages. Beckett doesn't hesitate in pushing the speed limit the whole way to the Hudson Valley. She knows how to avoid the speed traps and the areas where the local traffic cops generally hang out to catch unsuspecting speeders. She also takes a few moments before leaving to study and plot her route to be sure she gets to her destination as fast as possible. And whilst loathe to abuse the privilege, and she would never admit to doing this in front of Castle, if she were to get stuck in traffic she could always switch on the gumball to speed things up. After all, this certainly constitutes a life or death situation. She steps on the gas pedal a little harder.

Not to mention the fact that her future happiness depends on getting her partner back.

* * *

Castle moves stealthily, trying to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible. He's not sure how much of a head start he has or how many people have been alerted to his escape and may be on the lookout for him. From the look of the house, whoever has kept him prisoner has substantial resources and whilst he's not paranoid enough to think that everyone is out to get him, they have clearly gone to an awful lot of effort and he's not sure how far their reach extends. He tries to stick to the tree-line where he can, jumping over fences and staying off the road.

His body aches, is crying out for him to stop, but he pushes on. The wound on his side appears not to be bleeding too badly but it does sting and he winces in pain every time he has to lean or bend in that direction. It occurs to him that he really needs to get medical attention before long so he doesn't get an infection from the dirty, makeshift blade. It would be too ironic for him to finally manage to escape only then for him to then die from an infection caused by a self-inflicted stab wound.

He stops when he's about a few dozen houses or so away. He's drenched with sweat and not sure how much further his body can take him. He feels like his body is on fire and he can't seem to stop his legs from shaking. The houses have begun to get a little smaller and the area looks a bit less fancy which gives him some relief that he is now a considerable distance away from his prison. It does make it a little riskier for him to be seen by someone, even with the onset of night approaching. He wishes he could just knock on a door and ask to use the phone.

He's not sure he'd be able to survive going back into that basement and will do anything he can to prevent him from going back there. But he also just desperately wants to go home, to his life, his family. To Beckett.

* * *

Beckett manages to reach the property in record time.

As she pulls up to the curb she cannot believe her eyes at how imposing the house is. The three-storey house is really more of an estate than a mere house. It is set back from the road, surrounded by a well-manicured lawn at the front and a wooded area at the rear. Everything about it screams wealth and affluence but there is also a certain darkness about it that has nothing to do with the sun's decent toward the horizon.

Beckett tentatively approaches the house and knocks on the door. She waits, hearing no signs of life from within. She knocks again, however there's still no answer; instead, she'll walk around the estate, trying to look through the windows for any clues. At the rear of the building she finds the back door open, swung wide, like someone was either in a rush to enter or exit.

She peers inside the house and can see scuff marks and smears of blood across the floor. Panic bubbles up inside her, and she takes a moment to send Esposito a text message so that he can contact the local authorities on her behalf and send some backup. She's learnt from experience how badly things can go sideways without backup and she doesn't know what condition she'll find her partner in. She unclips her gun from its holster and enters the premises. Beckett follows the trail of droplets of blood along the floor, leading her to the staircase where she discovers a man, looking dazed and confused.

"Kate Beckett, NYPD. Where is my partner?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kate scrolls through her phone and brings up a picture of her partner, showing it to the man.

"Richard Castle. Where is he?"

"I already told you, I don't know"

"So whose blood is smeared all over the floor? It doesn't look like it belongs to you. In about ten minutes this place will be crawling with cops and our crime scene techs will analyse the blood. Maybe then you'll decide to answer."

The guy remains silent.

"Or maybe I should just shoot you now and find out the answers for myself." She points the gun to his head and cocks the trigger. "I've already asked nicely…. Now tell me where the hell Castle is".

"He's gone."

* * *

Castle risks getting a little closer to the houses in order to find something that will tell him where he is. A bill to a homeowner, a local newspaper or even a flyer advertising a local business, anything to help him figure out how on earth he can get home. He also keeps his eye out for anything that he can use to tidy himself up, a swimming pool or outdoor shower would be a godsend right about now as would some Castle-sized clothing hanging on a clothesline. But given his current predicament he'd even settle for a cold tap or a bird bath. Just something to allow him to splash some water on his face and body as best he can and make himself feel more human and look a little less scary to passer-by.

So intent is he in searching through a neighboring recycling bin, that it takes Castle a while to recognize the all too familiar red and blue flashing lights of the approaching patrol car. He hears a car door open and turns to see two men exit the vehicle. He tries to weigh up his options but his mind seems to be incapable of moving very quickly. It feels like all of the adrenaline he had during his escape has been used up and now it is all he can do to keep himself standing there, rooted to the spot.

The officers are talking to him, asking him questions, but he can't seem to make out any words. They walk towards him and it feels like his brain is screaming at him to run, to get away but his body won't co-operate. He tries to put up a fight but it's futile, he's just too weak. They reach him and he's not sure whether it's from sheer exhaustion or panic but suddenly he feels that all of his senses are on overload, each one competing for attention and it is overwhelming. Too much. He manages to utter the word "Beckett" before he can feel himself falling.

He's unconscious before he hits the ground.

* * *

Having secured her prisoner, Beckett takes a rudimentary look around the house, confirming that Castle is indeed no longer there. Armed with a flashlight she makes her way downstairs and discovers where she's certain her partner has been held for over the past week. She finds a pair of jeans that she's 99 percent sure belong to Castle but more than anything else, she's certain that this is where he was held because even through the mustiness and grime of the cellar there is a scent that smells distinctly of Castle. There isn't enough blood in the cellar, hall and staircase to indicate a large wound but she still hopes against hope that the blood does not belong to her partner or that if it is, that it hasn't gotten any worse and he's bleeding out somewhere with no-one to help him.

She returns to the prisoner but he remains tight lipped and none of her most persuasive, and barely legal, tactics work. She receives a text from Esposito assuring her that backup is on its way, and knows she's on thin ice with jurisdiction issues and entering the premises without a warrant so doesn't want to do anything more that may jeopardize an arrest.

Beckett is alerted to the officer's arrival by the crunching of several pairs of boots on the gravel path leading up to the house. She meets the officers at the side of the house and directs them to the rear entrance, where she had entered the house earlier.

"Kate Beckett, NYPD. Hello, and thank you for your assistance." She reaches out to shake the officer's hand.

"No problem Detective. Officer Jenkin and Officer Poole. Your colleague in New York helped to fill in some of the gaps for us. Actually, we had to make a pit stop on the way to you as we received reports of a prowler. May we suggest you come and take a look outside? You might be able to help us with that."

Beckett allows the officers to lead her back up the path where she can see two police cruisers, lights still flashing and an ambulance parked beside one of the cars. Two paramedics are in the middle of removing someone from the cruiser to be loaded into the ambulance. She spots a shock of tussled brown hair and she starts to run towards the vehicle in earnest.

She gets to the cruiser where Castle is being laid out on a stretcher. Castle is unconscious. He is filthy, unkempt, his hair all over the place and he has the start of a beard but it's her Castle and she takes her first sigh of relief in over a week. Yes, he's unconscious but seeing him being transported to an ambulance is much better than being transported to the morgue. Whilst the paramedics are checking him over for injury, Kate reaches out and grasps his hand in hers. She smooths down his hair and runs a finger along his cheek..

Castle's eyes flutter open and come to focus on Kate. "You came."

"Always," Kate manages to reply before his eyes draw closed again.

* * *

Just one more chapter to go!


End file.
